Conflicted Judgement
by ShadowedSword21
Summary: After Blackwall's Judgement Evelyn falls into a sadness that Varric and the other's can't shake. Cullen has watched from the sidelines long enough, trying to keep his own emotions out of the mix. But enough is enough and he can't stand it any longer. Cole tries to help the hurt as well, but there's only so much he can do beyond voicing their thoughts.
1. Comfort

Cullen was a patient man.

He had the patience to hold his breath and slowly count backwards from one hundred as his headache burned through his temples, racing painfully from one side of his head and bouncing back. He had the patience to sit through Josephine rattle off a dozen different solutions to a problem he knew he could fix with two men and an axe, albeit messily.

But he was running out of patience in this matter.

He'd suffered the red eyed, hungover suggestions of Evelyn's for pushing on a week and a half now. Ever since that Judgement she'd been like this. Drinking. Crying. Sniffling. Tight lipped and terse, throwing out the occasional suggestion or leaving decisions entirely up to them, which might have sparked an argument or two between him and Josephine. And kept him watching his back for repercussions for something else Leiliana disagreed with.

Enough was enough. He could only tolerate so much. Regardless of the pain. She was the leader of the Inquisition. Her people had to come before her relationships.

Cullen gathered himself, smoothing out his lapels and straightening his mantle as he eased out of his chair. A dull headache throbbed behind his eyes, a reminder of his commitment. One that he questioned every day.

He pursed his lips, reminding himself that the only reason he continued that decision was because of her. She had insisted that he do what he wanted. Not what might make the Inquisition better.

He swept out of his office, leaving a startled messenger at the door, looking confused.

"Commander Cullen!" The boy chirped, rushing after him, steps noisier than a drunk Druffalo.

"Put it on my desk. I'll be out for a time." Cullen retorted, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.

"Ye-Yes sir!" The steps retreated, just as loud as before, drumming the stonework like a gong.

Cullen groaned, pressing a hand to his head as he followed the battlement's railing down the stairs to the gate. From there he took the steps back up to the tavern, where he'd no doubt find her.

He pushed open the door, the tavern's ruckus subdued. If he had to guess, it had been subdued for the past week, do doubt sensing the emotional pain the Inquisitor held and buried in drink.

Cullen found her at the bar, Iron Bull by her side, nursing a drink of his own. Varric sat at a nearby table, a mournful look on his face as he watched Evelyn. Sera balanced on the railing above, hanging upside down and watching, though she wore a smile Cullen could see it was actually strained, or perhaps more of a sneer instead of a smile.

"Like a ripped wound. Pulsing. Bleeding. Pouring. Trampled and put back in. Beating but broken." Cullen jerked away, Cole appearing beside him.

The demon-spirit stopped by his side, looking to Evelyn then Cullen.

"I can't heal this hurt." Cole muttered.

Cullen swallowed, chewing on his lip. His hand found his neck, rubbing the soft curls that were starting to grow there and extend to the base of his neck. "Some pain doesn't heal with words or a bandage Cole." He tried.

Cole nodded, then looked over at him.

"Don't." Cullen said quickly.

"Sunshine in the windows. Light across the page, fire in my veins but water cools it when she laughs. The best days she stays." Cullen nudged the creature away, but he couldn't ignore the last sentence. He'd been talking about him and Evelyn. _His thoughts _on Evelyn. The ones he tucked to the furthest corner of his mind and tried his best to seal away.

"That's not your concern." He told Cole.

"But it would heal your hurt." Cole muttered, but he didn't seem to press the issue, instead he just walked away, and after a moment Cullen couldn't quite tell where he went.

Cullen growled, shaking his head and shoving the headache that was starting to mount to the back of his mind. Evelyn. Then Cole. No. Actually, Cole could just… never be addressed. Better to let that matter just lie.

He headed to the bar, but this time Varric stopped him, a firm hand on Cullen's wrist, holding him back. "I'd warn you Curly." Varric said softly. "It might have been a week but she's ruminating on it like it was yesterday." Then he looked down at his toes. "And she's been quite forth coming on the intimacy that was exchanged."

A blush crept up Cullen's cheeks, but he shook his head. "I suspected so. But still. We need the Inquisitor. Not a…" he pursed his lips. "Not a heart broken alcoholic."

Varric nodded, then a heavy sigh left the dwarf. "Give it a go then. Maybe you'll be more successful than us. Bull will carry her back if you aren't. We can at least get her back to her room when she passes out at the bar."

"Every night?" Cullen cocked an eyebrow. He missed so many little details living in that tower.

"The third night it was closer to dragging. She was still conscious." Varric replied. "Also holding a bottle, but" he shrugged. "She gave everything to the man. I… I can't truly blame her. I just want her to feel better."

"This isn't helping." Cullen muttered flexing his hand tentatively.

Varric released him readily, going back to his table where it looked like he was playing Wicked Grace by himself. No. Wait. Cole. Cullen's lip quirked at the thought of playing it with Cole.

"Inquisitor." Cullen said, addressing the main issue he came down.

She turned, her violet eyes reddened from crying, the bottle in her hand half empty and almost off the table and on the floor.

"Hmm?" She blinked at him. "Oh." She turned back to the bar. Iron Bull grimaced, reaching over and placing a single finger on the bottle, easing it and her attached arm further onto the table. A subtle tug as he tried to loosen the bottle as well, but Evelyn's grip somehow remained tight around it.

"Evelyn." Cullen tried, moving up behind her, leaning over her left shoulder.

"No." She muttered softly, refusing to meet his gaze as she turned her gaze to her boots.

"Look at me." Cullen muttered. "Please. Evelyn you've been here every night for a week."

"Doesn't matter." Evelyn jerked the bottle out from Iron Bull's hand, nearly slipping it as she took another drink.

"She's had four of those if you're wondering." Bull put in, pursing his lips.

"How many does it take to lose her." Cullen cocked an eyebrow as she set the bottle back on the table. It tilted, clattering to the bartop empty.

Iron Bull hummed. "If she's getting better at drinking, then maybe six. But if she has another…" He shook his head and sighed, leaning over the bartop. "Boss. Come on." He ushered. "You've had enough for tonight."

"If I can still remember him then I haven't had enough." She retorted.

Cullen gritted his teeth. "Bull, get her right. I'll get her left."

In a rush Cullen bent down, scooping Evelyn's left leg up as his arm hooked behind her back. Bull's arm hooked behind his, less ready for the maneuver, but catching on quickly enough. Together they hauled her away from the bar, managing to get halfway to the door when Cullen felt the crackle in the air.

"Evelyn." He warned.

"Put me down." She whined, thrashing in his grip, her magic coiling around her, lacing her fingers with strength. Her skin turned cold, frost on her fingertips as she squeezed Cullen.

Cullen ignored it. Drunken magic use was a terrible thing to punish. Further, she was reacting as she should in a situation like this. Well. If it wasn't Bull and him then she was. And it wasn't like she was particularly focused or powerful with it either.

A dull spark crackled off her hip, catching on his belt buckle and sending a jolt down his leg. Cullen winched.

"Evelyn stop." Cullen said and together he and Iron Bull dumped her on the doorstep.

"Tongue feels tingly now." Iron Bull muttered, shaking his head, his horns nearly cracking against the door as he retreated back to the bar. "If she shocks you, I'm not taking the blame."

Cullen huffed, setting his hands on his hips as he peered down at Evelyn.

She laid on her back, staring up at the stars, looking a mixture of red from thrashing as well as green. It reminded him of raw recruits after their first hard run.

"Get up." Cullen said, nudging her with his boot.

"Stomach flopping. Stars should stop moving. Anyone else would be better. Why is it him? Anyone but him." Cole murmured, sliding around Cullen and squatting in front of her.

A sour feeling struck Cullen's stomach. Anyone but him? He swallowed but held his ground as he hooked his thumbs in his belt. He didn't have his sword on him, but the tough leather helped a little anyways. Was she so unwilling to be around him?

Evelyn swatted at him, but her reaction was weak and the strength lacking even more so. "Cole." She moaned, giving him an annoyed look. "Noo."

Cole nodded, backing away, leaving Cullen towering over her.

Evelyn rolled over onto her stomach, shoving her arms under herself. She found the action useless though and unneeded. Her arms wouldn't steady enough to get her back on her feet, and Cullen had already pulled her to her feet, one firm hand on her back.

"I'm sorry." She whispered once they'd made it some distance from the bar, nearly to the front steps of the keep.

"I'm not mad at you." Cullen replied gently. He was furious at Blackwall. But that wasn't any reason to be mad at her.

"Yes you are. I made the wrong decision. I made all the wrong decisions." She choked out the words, sobbing them more than speaking them.

Cullen huffed, looking around. A bucket by the practice ring caught his eye. He left Evelyn momentarily, flipping the bucket over and guiding her to it. He sat her down, kneeling in front of her.

"Evelyn. I'm not mad at you." He assured her, setting his hands firmly on his own knees.

She shook her head, tears bursting anew from her vibrant purple eyes. "But I did this! I can't even pull myself together for the council meetings!"

Cullen huffed. "I didn't…" He shook his head, taking one hand off his knee to rub the back of his neck. "I'm not telling you what you're doing is wrong. It's perfectly reasonable."

"To cry for a week and a half and drink myself unconscious every night since I told that man he could live?" Evelyn laughed, but it wasn't the laugh that pulled him from his nightmares or lit up his office like rays of sunshine.

Cullen pursed his lips. "You have every right to be upset and mad and afraid and in pain and hurting. It's your heart. And you trusted it to that man and he lied. And that's something I can't forgive."  
"Why?" Evelyn whispered. "I'm the one hurting. He didn't hurt you." Cullen's lips twisted slightly, his chest constricting as she caught that slip. Of course she caught that slip.

"He hurt you though." His words came out as a soft whisper.

She paused, looking surprised. "He… what?"

"He hurt you." Cullen repeated. "And that's something far worse than hurting me. He might have lied to us. Might have told us all false things. But he lied to you. And you gave him everything you had." He realizing his hands were shaking. He gritted his teeth, clenching his fingers around his neck and knee.

"I…" Evelyn shook her head. "But why? I am nothing!"

"You're the woman that took charge of an organization started from scratch. You're the mage that confronted the Templars and decided to rebuild them from the ground up instead of tearing them apart and leaving them in cinders. You dropped a mountain on yourself just to give men and women you barely knew a chance to get away. Evelyn. You are everything."

She sucked in a breath that sounded more like it was snot than air but bobbed her head. "I was just there."

"I was just in Kirkwall." Cullen replied, opening that door to his dark past. But she needed this. Even if it hurt him. "I could have stopped Meredith and I didn't. I wielded the brand, the sword, the orders. You might have been there. But we are here because you were."

She leaned her head back, against the fencing, staring up at the stars. "Cullen," She muttered. "This is all too much for me. I'm just a hunter. I don't lead armies. I don't change worlds and cultures. I hunt wolves and I watch halla! I might not have even been made first Seeker when I came back! This isn't me!"

Cullen pursed his lips, the hand on his neck tightening as his headache worsened. This wasn't as easy as he had hoped it would be.

And none of it made the burning heat in his chest any better. Not the moonlight reflecting off her purple eyes. Not her lips, slightly parted and letting out soft ghosts of white in the cool mountain air. Not the way she opened up to him, revealing something he only suspected but never knew.

She eased into a standing position, leaning back and grasping the fence for support. "This…" She shook her head. "I should go."

She took a step away to the keep. Cullen rose uncertain. That uncertainty grew as she staggered, straightening up. She tilted, twisting back to look at him with a confused expression.

"Cullen." She muttered, her eyes fluttering. Then she doubled over, whatever was in her stomach spewing out in a moment. She stumbled back, groaning.

Then she was falling, knees collapsing as her eyes rolled back.

Cullen dove with a speed he wasn't aware he still possessed. Elbows scraped dirt, his knees hit next, pain lancing up his leg from a sprain he thought he'd healed from. Then a whoosh of air as Evelyn fell into his arms. His hand snapped back, catching her head before it hit the hardpacked dirt.

Cullen groaned, letting out a soft sigh of relief as he put his head down. Almost missed. Almost dropped her. Almost wasn't good enough.

"Maker, you scare the daylights out of me." Cullen whispered. He gathered her in his arms, pulling her to his chest.

She was deadweight in his arms, but that was preferable to a thrashing volatile mage. He had never known her to thrash or even crackle with magic like that.

He shook his head. Grief changed a person. He knew that all too well.

He carried her through the keep and up the steps to her bedroom, taking them nice and slow as not to rock or jar her. She seemed not to notice as he laid her down on the bed, her head hanging off the edge in case she threw up again.

"What am I going to do with you?" Cullen muttered, more to himself than for her. She was already past the realm of consciousness, perhaps exploring another part of the Fade in her mind.

"Hands like iron, eyes like gold. Hold me strong and steadfast. Never faulting. Statue. Cracked but whole. Shattered but not broken."

Cullen jerked, whirling around and finding the spirit on Evelyn's desk, perched on top and casually sorting papers.

Cullen scowled. "Cole."  
The boy looked up, his floppy hat nearly hiding his eyes. "It's how she thinks of you." He turned back to sorting papers, leaving Cullen stunned.

A statue? Steadfast?

"Did I settle? He could have been more but he wasn't. Took it and left without anything back. Promised me pain and I didn't believe him." Cole muttered softly.

Now he was speaking of Blackwall. But that first line caught him.

Did she settle? Settle for who? On what? Why?

"Cole could you please sto-"

"His hands are gentle with the pieces when he plays. Softer than lace, more delicate than glass when he checks. But his hands were rough, tantalizing and exhilarating, but not the same. More touches, but not quite tender. Rash and uncontrolled. Like the wood… But he always looked like the light.

The he's were confusing, too many pronouns, but Cole was deep in thought at this point, muttering more and more to himself.

Cullen started towards him when he heard Evelyn shift, a gagging noise.

He whirled, one hand scooping up her long locks of soft brown hair, the other sliding the bucket into position as her meager dinner and everything else in her stomach made a reappearance.

"She wants to be held reverently. Sacred but not untouchable. Above, but also beside. Nothing hidden, nothing veiled. Trusted and trusting. Loved wholly and loving completely."

"Cole enough." Cullen snarled. "Not one more word!"

The spirit startled, shocked as Cullen glared at him. "But I thought you wanted to-"

"It doesn't matter what I want!" Cullen's heart crept up his throat, tightening making it hard to get the words out. "I can't, won't and will not let my feeling affect her, nor the Inquisition!" He swallowed then, taking a deep breath as Evelyn seemed to settle again.

He reached into his pocket, producing a handkerchief and wiping her mouth. He folded it, then set it on her nightstand. With a deft hand he tied her hair back in a ponytail, draping it down her back in hopes that it would help should she shift and retch again.

"You can't heal my pain either Cole." Cullen whispered. "I have caused more than my share, and as such I deserve it all in return. Thank you. But no." He gathered himself up, casting another look down at Evelyn's small frame, hanging off the bed and looking terrible.

"You long to comfort her."

Cullen let out a long sigh. "She's already chosen a man. And I don't want to cloud her judgement, or risk hurting her again just because of something I feel. I don't matter enough for that kind of thing. If I can be of use to her. That's enough."

Cullen walked away, taking the steps nice and slow. His headache had returned, a terrible one this time that throbbed in new places. But that didn't quite match the pain, hot and heavy, in his chest as he made his way down the stairs. He was so focused on it he nearly missed Cole's comment as the boy ran by.

"Lies only make the hurt worse."


	2. Shame

Shame

Cole's words haunted Cullen's head.

Every time he finished a report or stamped a seal onto a correspondence it rang again, renewing the pain in his chest. Together with the pain in his head it resonated, leaving him miserable and short tempered.

The courier had been the first to suffer his ire, heavy tromping feet louder than a Druffalo. He'd berated the man for stomping across the stones in his boots, as well as the informal way he burst through his door and to Cullen's desk. He'd rattled off a list of things so minute that he'd left the boy speechless on his doorstep. And to top it off, Cullen had slammed the door and tromped to his desk himself, dropping the reports and letters on his desk with a huff.

Now those letters were carefully stacked and piled, but Cullen's mood was no better. The light coming through the window was too bright, and the candles driving off the spare shadows on his office were flickering from the draft. It felt like there was a lance in his head.

Like someone had taken a pike and shoved it through one ear and screwed it in until it popped out the other. And it kept. On. Going.

He'd fasted to avoid the brightness on the way to the main room, both unwilling to enhance his headache as well as unwilling to look at Evelyn. Or deal with Cole and his murmurs.

Lies.

Cullen shook his head, trying to rid that train of thought from his head.

Then his problem walked in. Or to be more specific. The catalyst of his problem walked in. Dressed in a loose red tunic, a warm looking brown jacket, and leggings that hugged her thighs in the most sinful of ways. Maker preserve him.

Cullen suppressed a groan, instead composing himself and sitting up straight.

"Inquisitor, what can I do for you this-"He caught a glimpse of the sky through the doorway. Darkening, but likely not past supper. "afternoon." He finished, hoping the pause in his speech would go unnoticed.

It didn't befit a commander to lose track of time.

"I…" She hesitated, her gaze at her feet. She looked up at him, purple eyes holding almost a pleading look. "I wanted to apologize for my actions."

So, this was about last night?

Cullen cleared his throat, waving his hand as if to dismiss the gesture. "Inquisitor it's of no concern what, or how you spend your evenings." He tried to keep it professional. "I only hope that you're feeling better after this…" He trailed off, pursing his lips and sighing. "I'm sorry. That came out cold. I won't fault you for acting how you are. I only want you to consider that everyone else is wanting to help as well. And that drowning yourself in a drug isn't the solution."

She gave him a sad look, then nodded. "It… I…" She shook her head. "Thank you, Commander. I find it hard to believe that I deserve a friend as faithful and caring as you."

Heat flushed, rising up his neck and settling in his cheeks. He reached up, his headache bursting anew but he pushed it out of his mind as he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to contain and subdue the blush. He was failing miserably he knew, but she'd caught him off guard.

"You deserve someone far better than I." He replied. "I-I only hope you find someone as deserving of you." Blast his stutter! He thought he had it under control!

She laughed, seeming to take his honesty as flattery. He knew she took it that way. She didn't consider that his comments were affection based and not otherwise.

"She does. But she's scared." Cole's voice whispered in his ear.

Cullen froze, his headache making its reappearance at Cole's words. He shook his head away, swatting instinctively at the boy.

Cole sidestepped, seeming to drift more than walk to Evelyn's side. He whispered something else in her ear, then left, walking out the door with nary a whisper more.

"Put a bell on him." Cullen snarled. "He keeps… drifting in."

Evelyn blushed, nodding with a small smile. "Yes. He uh-. Tends to… do.. that." She shook her head. "Um. Commander. How. Do you."

"Think of you?" He guessed. "I suspected Cole might have said something."

"Sunshine through stained glass, pools of liquid lavender, hair that smells like home?" She prompted.

Cullen swallowed, suddenly finding his mouth dry. "I…" He turned his gaze back to his desk. "I suppose that has uh…" He fumbled, busying his hands by sorting the already sorted papers. "crossed my mind." He muttered hurriedly.

"Oh."

Oh? What sort of reply was that?

"Yes." Cullen replied, swallowing once more. "So. What did you come here for initially?" He tried, hoping to change the subject.

"J-Just to apologize." She muttered, taking a step back to the door. "I'll… I'll take my leave then. I… I'm sorry."

"No-I!" Cullen cursed, coming around the desk. "Evelyn, it's not. I don't." He huffed, feeling his checks burn as he stared down at his boots. "Regardless of what you think. I don't want our relationship to be anything less or more than professional. My personal feelings should not affect the Inquisition, nor my performance in it. I won't let Lyrium affect me. Nor will I let my heart."

It burned coming out. Like one of Iron Bull's drinks on the way down. His chest twisted, and the lance wasn't just in his head anymore. It was in his heart, twisting the organ around and squeezing it as tight as he could bare.

"I…" She looked like she wasn't expecting that response. Then she abruptly nodded and left. Leaving him standing in front of his door, chest tight, throat constricting, and head pounding.

"Not what she wanted. Not what she meant." Cole whispered.

"She doesn't deserve a man like me." Cullen replied, turning back to his desk to address the reports again. He needed to be a functioning commander of troops. A guidepost for their army. The Inquisition didn't need a lover boy.

"She wants the man behind the armor. Eyes hard like stone, but bright with Light. She wants her name to be said like the Chant off his lips." Cullen heard Cole following him to his desk. In the back of his mind he wondered if that last line bordered on blasphemy.

"She's just going through the pain of loosing Blackwall. Nothing more nothing less. She doesn't want a man like me." Cullen assured him. Doesn't deserve a man as lowly as me…

"She wanted you before him. Comfort and real. You feel like silence. Steady and easy. He felt like the wood. Strong and soft, but rough and callous. Knotted and grizzled. Twisted and broken. She wasn't ready. She isn't sure if she ever would be."

That stopped Cullen in his tracks. Wanted him before Blackwall? What pushed her away? Though… she had started flirting with Blackwall at Haven. Before he'd been willing to open up to her. So…

So, it was his fault. He had blocked her advances. And that left her seeking for someone more willing to give her affections notice.

"Maker's breath." He muttered, leaning over his desk. It all boiled down into being his fault didn't it? He hadn't questioned Blackwall's appearance, nor his circumstances when he joined. He hadn't returned Evelyn's affections until she had already started with Blackwall. And… Oh Blessed Maker. What had he done?"

"Go." Cole murmured, somehow balanced on the bookshelf, tettering on the top of it as casual as a cat. "She needs you."

"She hardly needs a scarred worn man such as I." Cullen remarked. "She's…" he trailed off, doing the math in his head. "Six years younger than me. That's a fair amount of life left to live. She's a mage. I'm a man who's done terrible things to mages. She's the Herald and I'm just a lowly commander of troops." He shook his head. "Cole this would never work."

"Would it never work because it can't work out? Or would it never work because you won't let it?" Cole shot back with a surprising amount of clarity.

Cullen blinked, freezing at his desk. His fingers itched, something to do, anything other than _this_ to occupy his time and thoughts. But…

Cullen shook his head. "Cole please." He huffed, dropping himself into the chair and picking up the next report. "She deserves better than a man like me." He muttered again. "If you can pick through my brain you know what I've done. To mages. To people. The lives that I sacrificed because I was afraid. The lives I tried to end because I was scared. The crimes I let pass because of prejudice." He didn't even read the report, unable to focus on it as he let it ease to the wood of his desk.

"You were scared of them. Scared they would use blood magic. That they would call the demons."

A brief flash of the temptress, edging in to him. Whispering promises to him, showing him exactly what he wanted. The nightmare had changed recently. Now it showed him Evelyn.

"I still am." Cullen admitted with a sigh. "And I'm afraid that's a fear I may fight a while longer."

"Are you scared of her though?"

What was it with this boy and pronouns? Surely he could say a proper name! Cullen dismissed that thought and answered as he dropped his head into his palm and his elbow on his desk.

"Its easier with her. She's the Inquisitor. She's…" What? A person? That was obvious. Intricate and intelligent. Emotional, but also logical about some decisions. Efficient in rulings, practical in thought. Terrible at chess, but a master when it came to music.

Everything he thought a mage couldn't be when he was younger. A sharp contrast to his fear. An exception.

"Not like them…"

"Lies only hurt." Cole warned.

Cullen snarled. "You've had enough time poking in my head for today." His annoyance fizzled away as he glared at Cole. The boy's somber eyes boring into him. And finally Cullen turned his gaze back to his desk. "I know. I've always know. I've just been scared of the shame admitting it would bring."

"Shame is a burden best carried by two sets of shoulders." Cole whispered.

"Now you're reading Varric's thoughts." Cullen muttered. "Or at least stealing his lines."

Cole didn't reply, and Cullen let the conversation drop. He picked up his report again, trying to focus on that instead of the sour feeling in his stomach and the pounding in his head. It took him another three reports to realize that Cole had disappeared entirely, dropping into nothing and leaving him with more cursed thoughts.

"Maker's breath that boy." Cullen muttered, shaking his head.


	3. Burning

Burning

Cullen heard the Chantry door open behind him, but he kept his eyes closed as he mouthed his prayers. Endless requests and thanks. Assistance for his plight. Strength for his failings. Protection for Evelyn. Everything that made sense and some that didn't.

Steel plate chinked sharply on the stone beside him, accompanied by the scent of fresh wood. Cullen gritted his teeth, feeling his anger rise.

Then he swallowed it, as he did so many emotions.

He opened his eyes, staring up at statue, seeming to be clothed in the light from the windows. Faith was difficult for him. A struggle after his failures and deeds. A question of how she could let such acts happen. And then dare to grant Evelyn something like The Mark.

He turned on his heels, pointedly ignoring Blackwall, who had dropped to one knee.

"Commander." The liar's words were solemn and soft, but they echoed in the quiet chamber.

"Don't." Cullen replied, containing the boiling in his veins as he shoved the door open.

He heard Blackwall follow after him, into the garden. The door shut, and then Blackwall's hand dropped on his shoulder.

Cullen stopped, flexing every muscle in his body to contain himself. "Rainier."

"I want to apologize."

"You don't owe me anything." Cullen's reply was like a snarl, barely contained rage.

"I think we both know I can't apologize to her anymore and have it mean anything other than words."

"Then maybe you don't deserve her forgiveness." The response was hard and cruel, but it found itself on Cullen's lips anyway as he turned around to face the man. "She trusted you. And you didn't. And that broke her to pieces."

"I know." Blackwall's expression was stoic for a moment, before he dropped his gaze to his boots. "And I know I don't deserve her forgiveness. I don't deserve a lot of things. Certainly not her kindness. Certainly not this life. Certainly not a life with her."

The rage cooled, replaced with something cold and dark. Cullen sighed, shaking his head. "Why did you come to me then?" I hardly see her. Go to Bull. Go to Varric." He considers the look in Blackwall's eyes before repeating. "Why me?"

"Because you care for her. And you're the one that hates me the most for it. Because I didn't just hurt the Inquisition. I hurt her. And while I know that hurts me. I know it burns you just as much."

Cullen snorted at that. "If you loved her you wouldn't have lied."

Blackwall hummed, seeming to share that sentiment. "She deserved better than me. She…" He shook his head. "She never belonged to me anyways. She was always yours to claim."

Claim. Claim. A bitter feeling settled in Cullen's gut at that word. Templars used to claim mages, restrict them with a blood oath, bind them under their control. A harsh magic, complete power over someone.

"Don't say that." Cullen muttered. "She was never mine. And she doesn't belong to anyone."

"Perhaps." Blackwall replied. "But she was certainly never mine."

Cullen stared at the man for a moment, watching Blackwall's eyes. The feeling in his gut returned, a tightness in his shoulders and arms. A deep lingering hate. And before Cullen can find the diplomatic filter he's honed over years, he asks.

No. He was never going to ask.

"Blackwall. I'm going to punch you."

The man blinked, surprised for a moment. But Cullen can't contain the rage that's boiled up. The deep bleeding hatred that's coiled in his muscles demanded release.

The fist caught Blackwall in the gut, doubling the man over. And Cullen kept it planted there before he followed it up with a sharp uppercut that knocked the man on his ass.

Blackwall groaned, staring up at Cullen.

"I do hate you." Cullen confessed. "I hate you for hurting Evelyn. I hate you for leading her along and convincing her that you loved her. Because if you really loved her you would have trusted her and told her. Not run like a coward to the gallows. I hate you for thinking she could belong to you," A pause. "To anyone. Evelyn doesn't belong to a person, or a place, or even an organization unless it is her choice. And even then. It is by her graces that she stays. Not yours. Not mine. Not now. Not ever."

Blackwall nodded, then let out a soft groan as he reclined his head, setting it on the stonework.

Cullen stared down at him for a moment, then turned on his heels and walked back to the keep, leaving Blackwall to his thoughts.

Vaguely, Cullen is aware of a second set of footsteps behind him, but not once does he stop to address it. He knew it would be one of two people, and while he dreaded the conversation that would follow, he knew it was inevitable.

He stopped on the walkway to his tower, abruptly and without pause. The footsteps stopped too, and he slowly turned, not facing them, but rather the expanse to his right so he could overlook the gate.

"You have something on your mind." Cullen remarked.

He still didn't know who it was, but he knew Cole would have said something already. And that only left one person that walked that quietly. Well, two, but Sera wouldn't bother tailing him. Or being silent.

"Why?" Her voice cracked, but he knows it's choked with emotion and confusion and he doesn't blame her.

"Because I don't think I could forgive him if I didn't. And even with that," Cullen sighed, running his hang through his hair to rest it on the back of his neck. "I don't think I'll be able to for a while yet."

"Over me?"

"I can…accept him hiding his past from the Inquisition. But he said he loved you. And I cannot forgive that he didn't trust you with his mistakes while you trusted him with everything." Cullen shook his head. "I'm sorry. It wasn't my-'

"You are a very…" Her voice cut him off, even as quiet and soft as it was. He turned to see her expression, and found her eyes filled with tears, her mouth covered. She shook her head, wiping her eyes and sucking in a breath.

"Thank you." She said finally. "I… It's difficult to face him. And I hate him. But. It's hard to not think about him. Not wonder. Wonder why I wasn't good enough to be trusted. Not enough for him to love. Not-"

"You're better than all of us Evelyn." Cullen said, easing off the railing and taking a small step towards her. "You are the best of all of us." He hesitates, slowly dropping his hands to his sides.

He wanted to hug her. He wanted to comfort her and tell her she was everything. She made his evenings pleasant when she dropped by, even just to sit in his spare stool and talk or read reports. She took his mind off the headaches and the weakness that plagued him. She reminded him of the days on the farm with his sisters, fishing in the lake, running through the wheat fields.

"Hold her. Strong and steadfast. The statue with golden eyes and a heart that bleeds for two." Cole whispered.

And Cullen did. He took one step forward, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her to his chest as she cried softly into his mantle. Her hands dug into his tunic, grabbing onto him to keep her steady as she cried.

"I'm here." Cullen assured her. "I won't leave you."

She nodded into his chest, clutching him until the tears stopped and she could steady herself. She shuffled back, staring at him for a moment before looking down at her feet.

"Thank you…Commander."

"Cullen." He replied. She looked up, surprised. "It's just us Evelyn. So please, call me Cullen." He reiterated. "I-If you don't mind." His blush returned, and he resisted the urge to scratch the back of his neck.

She smiled. A sweet smile, accented by the smeared tears and slightly red eyes. "Thank you. Cullen." And his name never sounded quite so wonderful before. It sparked something in his chest, a fire of sorts. Burning brightly in his chest as he found a smile starting to peak at his own lips to match hers.


End file.
